by K. M. Herkes
Gwen said, “Is that so?”
“He likes your hair.” Valerie held out a hand to Gwen. “Valerie Wade. It’s nice to meet you. This is Gary.”
The DPS officer smiled and accepted the handshake, and Gary said, “Gahmah!”
Then he waved his gooey fingers at Gwen. His gaze was still fixed on her braid, which had snuck over her shoulder to hang down the front. She shook one of his fingers, gently. “Very nice to meet you too. Are you a fan of purple?”
“Gah!” he said emphatically. Harold and the Purple Crayon was his favorite bedtime story.
“I like purple too,” Gwen said, “but my hair isn’t for playing, sorry. Not like Jen’s tail. You can wave to it, though. It’ll wave back. Say good-bye, hair.”
The braid flicked up and down, then disappeared behind her back. Gary’s lip quivered, but he mumbled, “Gamahah,” and let Johnny help him pet Gwen’s tail instead. When their attention began to wander, the DPS officers disengaged with an ease that spoke of long practice working with children.
Gwen gave both boys another wide grin. “You two have fun tonight, okay? Would you like tokens for the games? The Department gives them out as prizes for children who are polite and brave, and I think you qualify.”
That was a lie. The DPS didn’t give out money. Valerie swallowed the prideful protest that she didn’t need charity. It wasn’t for her, after all. Johnny and Gary each got a token, and Johnny gave Jen a smile as bright as the sun and said thank you with only a little prompting.
The two officers sauntered off into the crowd, and Valerie took the boys down the midway to let them pick a place to lose their money. When they held a whispered conversation that ended up with two dollars going to a charity dunk tank because good works, Mama, her heart nearly burst with pride.
Her mother rejoined her while the boys were pitching softballs with the help of the proprietor, whose partner was not pleased about them getting assistance. Mom didn’t say anything, of course. Valerie heard the rattle of the walker and imagined her standing a few feet away, frowning until her eyes disappeared in wrinkles.
“Hi, Mom,” Valerie said in her best chipper customer-service voice. “Isn’t this fun?”
“You always did love the carnival,” Mom said, and then she sighed. “I didn’t mean to ruin it tonight. I hope I didn’t. I just don’t know why the poz can’t keep themselves to themselves. It scares me, what the world’s coming to. You can’t always tell by looking at them, you know. Look at that woman who burned down Boston last summer. She could’ve been anyone, but she was a monster. They ought to wear signs or something.”
“Boise, Mom. It was Boise, and—never mind.” It was impossible to stay angry. Mom was old, and in pain, and nothing was going to change her mind. When Valerie turned around, she saw sadness and regrets. She made herself smile. “Let’s try and have one good evening together. Please?”
Mom said, “I did my best, you know. It wasn’t easy, raising three of you on my own after your dad left. I didn’t want you to make my mistakes, that’s all.”
“I know, Mom. You did your best.”
It hadn’t been easy on any of them. That was why Mom’s other two daughters no longer spoke to her. Valerie didn’t blame Mom for her own mistakes. She’d listened to everyone who told her how she should behave, she’d trusted teachers who told her she was stupid, and she’d believed her husband when he said he loved her.
Almost a year ago now, she’d looked at John’s sorrowing face while the imprint of his hand still stung her cheek, and she’d seen him for what he was. Power and possession were all that mattered. His children’s college funds were his to spend on drugs. The rent was his to spend the same way. Valerie was his. He loved the fear his hard fists and harder words caused, but he didn’t love her. He never had.
She’d vomited into the sink, grabbed the boys and left the house without looking back. Until that moment, she’d stayed with him because she didn’t want to become her mother, but there’d been a worse fate waiting for her in John’s hatred.
Putting that mistake behind her took three months, two police calls, all her savings and a restraining order. They would probably be living on the streets if Mom hadn’t needed home care and invited them into her tiny apartment.
Valerie couldn’t blame Mom for any of it, so she said, “I’m doing my best too. We both are. Truce?”
Mom nodded, appeased, and they did have a good evening, checking out the sights, letting the boys try out the toddler-friendly rides, resting on park benches and letting the world pass by. One diaper change, two minor tantrums, and a dozen mean-spirited Mom comments about the decline of civilization later, Valerie bundled everyone into the car and headed home. It hadn’t been the best birthday ever, but it was one she could put in the plus column.
Her happiness crumbled away when she spotted Gwen and Miss Jen waiting near the front door of her apartment building. They sat on one of the courtyard benches under a spreading live oak, and their dark uniforms blended into the shadows cast by the security lights four floors up. If not for the faint glow shimmering around them, she never would’ve known they were there. Her stomach lurched with fear, wondering why they had come here, and she stopped dead.
The DPS officers got up. Gwen’s long purple hair was loose now, a cloak that swirled around her shoulders even though the cool night air was still. Valerie could see now that it wasn’t really hair, more like strands of seaweed or vines. Jen’s tail twitched, and her thin lips lifted off the fangs. It didn’t look like a smile, and she seemed entirely alien with her deep-set eyes and skin glittering when she emerged from beneath the tree.
“Hi!” Johnny’s greeting bounced off the building, but he went from shout to whisper without prompting. “I didn’t know the tail and hair ladies lived here too.”
His whisper wasn’t much softer than his shout, and Gwen replied, “We’re only visiting.” Her hair rippled in time with her words. “We forgot to tell your mom something earlier. Ms. Wade, can we have a moment of your time?”
Mom made a disgusted noise with her tongue and teeth, the sound she usually reserved for one of Gary’s potty accidents. “See what happens when you encourage them?” she said. “Now they’re following you home.”
“They aren’t stray puppies, Mom.” Valerie hoped the thumping of her heart wasn’t audible to anyone else. The fear made her pulse jump and skitter worse than when she had to serve tables full of college boys. “Please take the boys inside.”
She said, “Give me a minute,” and got out the apartment key for Mom after she unlocked the building door for them. “Go inside with Nana,” she told Johnny as she put Gary’s hand into his, and she pushed open the heavy outer door for them. “I need to talk to the nice ladies. Be good boys, please?”
Johnny heaved a martyred sigh and tugged Gary inside. Once Mom was through the door, breathing hard and thumping her walker down with every step, the boys bolted ahead towards the elevator, yelling and laughing at the top of their lungs as they went.
Valerie winced. She would hear about that from the building supervisor in the morning. Or maybe she wouldn’t.
She walked over to the DPS officers, who both nodded to her but stayed silent. Valerie said, “My mother thinks you’re stalking me.”
“This is official DPS business,” Gwen said. “We were off duty when we went to the fair, but we’re back on the job now. We need to talk. Do you want to sit down?”
“No. You’re scaring me.” Valerie suppressed a shudder of unease. “Was my test positive? Am I going to go into rollover?”
The women glanced at each other much the same way they had earlier, at the carnival. “Did you get tested recently?” Gwen asked. “That figures. No, we aren’t here about your test. Noticing things about people is part of our job. We didn’t realize what happened until after you’d moved on, but Jen took a quick-pic, and we used that to find your name and address in the national database.”
“What I said? About what? Was it t
he cat-petting comment? How could that be DPS business?” Valerie clenched her fists, relaxed them. The fear pooled in her belly, leaving her nauseous. A lifetime of Mom’s warnings came crowding into her mind as she backed away.
Gwen said, “Wait, wait, don’t panic.”
She and Jen both raised their hands. It would’ve been more reassuring if Jen hadn’t had claws to go along with the scales and teeth, but they both looked so concerned that Valerie only gasped instead of screaming for help.
And Jen said, “Please don’t be frightened of us. We mean you no harm, I swear. We’re worried about you—worried on your behalf, I mean, and we need to ask some official questions. May I?”
Valerie’s pulse slowed, and she nodded.
“How could you tell I’m a woman?” Jen asked.
“Are you kidding me? That’s why you’re here scaring me half to death?” The questions poured out of Valerie in a relieved flood. “It’s obvious to anyone who looks past the crew-cut and trousers. What kind of official question is that? How insecure are you?”
Once her emotional outburst spilled into silence, Gwen said, “She looks like a lizard wearing a wig, Ms. Wade. There are zero visual clues to her gender. Even when people hear her name, most can’t see it. Let me ask you this: am I glowing? Is Jen? We are, aren’t we?”
They were. It was obvious. Anyone could see it. Valerie’s stomach rolled over again. Maybe not everyone could. “What would it mean if I saw a glow?”
“It means you’re already rolling. Right now.” Gwen’s voice was soft with sympathy. “I’m sorry. We weren’t sure, earlier, but that settles it. Only people who’ve come into their own power can see those auras.”
“But I’m not—” Not ready. Not strong enough. Not prepared. “No, it’s impossible. I can’t be. Look at me. I’m normal. I don’t feel anything.”
“Good,” Jen said firmly. “You probably won’t, then, not if you’re already far enough along to see our power signatures. Physical variances aren’t all that common. Carnies like me and Jen, we’re the unlucky ones. You’re coming over slow and cool. Best you could ask for, really.”
Gwen added, “My educated guess says you’ll code as N or B. Do you know what that means? Do you know series designations and variances?”
She knew. She’d studied the charts obsessively, when she was fourteen and her first test came up positive, when she’d daydreamed about hitting rollover early and having a tragic death that would make everyone appreciate what they’d lost. Every fever had been early onset as a pyro, every rash and cramp a sign that she was about to roll as a plague-carrier. She’d gotten over it when she passed the high end of the early-onset age range, but the facts had stuck. The N-series all had some affinity for living matter, while B’s were sensory and detection talents.
Both series shared one critical advantage, as far as Valerie was concerned. “N’s and B’s don’t have to be interned, right? I wouldn’t have to leave home?”
“Not if I’m right, but I’m not a diagnostics specialist. We’re going to have to ask you to come back to the offices with us to get tested and registered. Will you come voluntarily?”
“Now?” Valerie couldn’t help herself. She looked up, towards the lit window of her apartment. Mom would be nagging them through the nightly tooth-brushing and pajama rituals, unless she’d already fallen asleep on the couch. “Right now? Can it wait? I could come tomorrow before work.”
She would have to get up at 4 AM. She was on breakfast shift at the diner. Her brain started spinning through possibilities. What if she was interned after all? What if she couldn’t come back? The boys needed more stability and guidance than an invalid grandmother could give them. Their father was unreliable when he wasn’t being abusive. They needed their mother.
Every cell in her body yearned to be up there with them now. What would happen to them, if she left?
Gwen and Jen moved back and apart, bracketing her, and Gwen said, “Sure, it can wait until morning, if you don’t mind putting your kids at risk. Like I said, I’m not an expert. Extra-sensory variances are common in all the elemental series. If you do flare hot all of a sudden, and turn carnie in front of them, or draw all the air out of their bodies…”
That was a low blow, but a fair one. Tears stung Valerie’s eyes. “No, you’re right. Of course I’ll come now. Can I at least say good-night? Just in case?”
“Of course. We’ll have to come with you,” Gwen said, “and you can’t—you won’t—shouldn’t—oh, this is so hard. I hate this part.” Her face was tight with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, but don’t touch them. Just in case.”
“Oh.” All the fear and grief burst up and out through Valerie’s chest like a cold explosion, and she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Then the worst hit her like a punch to the heart. “Oh, God. How am I going to break this to Mom? She doesn’t even know I’m poz.”
She’d plucked her test results out of the mail, that all-important first time, and then she’d forged her name onto her older sister’s clearance letter and kept the secret forevermore. How could she admit that she was something her mother hated?
Jen bared her fangs. “Can I tell her for you? It’d be my pleasure.”
It wasn’t that funny. It was mean and petty, but she laughed because Jen’s smile was like a warm hug that said, “I understand,” and “It will all work out,” and most importantly, it said, “You won’t have to face this alone.”
Oh, that last promise made her dizzy, and the tears that welled up were ones of joy. Everything was about to change, but maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be the disaster she had dreaded all her life. Maybe this was another step on the road to becoming herself.
“No, I can do it,” she said, and pride made her straighten up and smile, because it was true. “I can do this.”
Part Two: An Ordinary Life
The dead man walked into the diner on a Tuesday. When Valerie turned at the chime of the doorbell, she was carrying two plates and a pot of coffee to the first booth and worrying about the infant crying at the four-top in the corner. She forgot to keep her inner eyes closed.
He looked like a kid, maybe eighteen, thin and tall. His skin was deep brown, his hair buzzed so short his scalp shone through the fuzz. The uniform identified him as a Marine, probably passing through town on liberty from 29 Palms.
More importantly though, he was dead. To Valerie’s eyes, his skull glowed through his skin and his spirit shone like fire inside his veins, pulsing with every heartbeat. In a few days, a few weeks at most, that vibrant life force would leave his body. It was as clear as the friendly smile on the boy’s face.
Both plates and the coffee pot hit the floor, and it was all she could do to keep her screams inside. Everyone in the place turned to stare. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. The diner was full with shift workers from the packing plants and kids getting after-school snacks. The air conditioner sputtered loud in the silence after the crash, bravely attempting to cool off the dusty blast of desert air the dead man had brought inside with him.
Valerie tore her gaze away from him to the disastrous mess at her feet. One of her sneakers was ruined. Hot brown liquid soaked through the bleach-thinned canvas, pooling warm against the plastic sole under her toes. The scent of coffee, strawberry soda and wet fries filled the air, and she swallowed down nausea.
Her DPS mentor had described what impending death might look like when she saw it. He’d even warned her how hard that first vision might hit her, but she’d never expected it to happen at work. Dying people didn’t usually walk into roadside diners and order lunch. Except this one had.
The shift workers went back to their burgers and gossip, sunlight slanting golden and hot across the booths. The schoolboys applauded and laughed, and Valerie pulled her cleaning rag from her apron pocket. Her knees popped when she knelt.
The dying Marine edged carefully past the coffee puddle and took a stool at the counter as if he hadn’t just ruined Valerie’s day. As if he wasn�
�t dying.
The swinging door to the kitchen slammed open to the wall, narrowly missing Nancy, who was working the counter. She didn’t even flinch. She was big-haired, bleached-blonde, and married to Jeff, the burly-armed bald owner, which meant she was used to ignoring his tantrums. She also ignored the Marine.
Jeff came barreling over with a bus tub in his big hands and a thunderous expression on his sweaty face. The tub landed next to Valerie in the puddle, splashing coffee over her stockings and the other shoe. That was going to smell lovely by end of shift.
She picked up shards of glass and soggy beef patties, and Jeff loomed over her, breathing his nasty stale smoker’s breath down her neck and not lifting a finger.
“What is wrong with you, poz?” he asked “That’s the fifth meal you’ve dropped since you came back to work from paid leave. Waste of time and my tax money. I’m taking this out of your check, you know. Give me one good reason not to fire your ass.”
“Because I’ll sue your ass for discrimination?”
It was an empty threat, and unfortunately Jeff knew it. Valerie couldn’t afford a lawyer or the time a court case would demand. She couldn’t even afford to say the magic words, “You can’t fire me, I quit.”
She could not risk everything on a bold gamble. Not when she had two kids to feed and clothe and a sick mother with too many bills to pay. Not when she’d bet wrong so many times in her life. No, she needed this job, so she wrung out her towel and made her best play to keep it. “And don’t forget I’ve rolled now. Who knows what I might do to you if you make me angry?”
It was a bluff—she was utterly harmless—but by law Jeff couldn’t ask for her case details. She planned to keep him ignorant as long as possible. As long as he thought she might be physically dangerous, he would be careful. He talked a good game, but inside he was a coward; that was one of the things Valerie’s new talent had shown her.